


Wanting the Penguin (Give Me Everything It Want)

by GothamNights



Series: Duality- Admitting I Love You [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs Are Good For The Soul, Gay Sex, Kinky, M/M, Nygmobblepot Week 2017, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 16:37:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12136623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothamNights/pseuds/GothamNights
Summary: Trapped within the Court of Owls with the man he shot and left for dead, Ed is forced to confront his depraved desires for the man he cannot be sure he loves, but Ed knows one thing, there can be no Edward Nygma without the Penguin.





	Wanting the Penguin (Give Me Everything It Want)

**Author's Note:**

> God I love this Ship!! Ever since this two were introduced I loved their characters and when they formed a friendship I was intrigued by there possibility and began to drown in Nygmobblepot. No regrets there.   
> Enjoy my first attempt at smut that was rewritten so many times  
> GothamNights xxx

Wanting the Penguin. 

 

‘I have you just where I want you.’ 

The words are delightfully sensuous, soft illicit caresses which stroke my ears, whilst his hand strokes something else entirely. His slender fingers draw me out, mind bogglingly gentle, and draws me ever closer, close enough to feel warm, panting breath, close enough to hurt, close enough to kill. I gasp as his skilful fingers render me achingly hard, fingers coaxing and teasing small drops of precum from my head, smearing it over the slit, my body becoming more sensitised with each ministration. He is cruel, rough strokes that leave me breathless, before he jerks me and stops, refusing to let me fall into orgasmic bliss. My head lies against stone cold bars, the distracting temperature a relief against my heated skin, somehow the sensation grounding me as I rut shamelessly against his hand, trying to forget just who I am so desperate for.

‘There have to be rules.’ I say, my speech rushed and garbled as Oswald jerks me again and I’m so close, so… He stops, smirking at me, pleased at my dishevelled demeanor, pleased at how pliant I am, how eager I am for him. The man I said I didn’t love, couldn’t love, for what he did to Isabella, the childish way he acted when he was forced to share me, forced to let me go. Yet I am reduced to nothing but a shivering ball of lust at his fingertips on my skin, from his heated gaze roving over my flesh, from his complete dominance over me. He is sensual and oddly erotic as he leans over to me, peppering soft breaths over my tendon, biting down harshly at my pulse point, letting me arch and whimper into his sadistic touch, driven wild with insatiable lust. 

‘Well you’re a psychopath, sick in mind and heart and so is he. You are perfect for one another.’ Kristen’s voice echoes through my mind, but I am too far entangled with Oswald to mind her snide remarks, to care that she called me a psychopath. 

‘Of course.’ Oswald purrs, pushing me down to my knees on the stone, looking every inch the King of Gotham that he is, me a humble servant, obedient at his feet. He has neglected me completely now and I whine, unbecoming as my agonisingly hard cock pulses restlessly against my stomach. Oswald merely condescendingly smiles at me, his face quickly distorting into a scowl when I try to touch myself, try to relieve some of the pressure coiled tight and firm in my lower abdomen. He unzips himself, ever graceful in his movements, inspiring quick jealously which is immediately forgotten when he grabs my hair, yanking on it tightly to force my face upwards. He smears his aromatic lubrication over my lips, glazing them with a salted shine as I moan, enamoured with the taste of the man I love on my mouth.

I’m greedy for this and Oswald knows it. There is a reason I am on my knees, a reason I don’t protest this debasement, the way I crave this degradation. I crave his punishment, I deserve it for breaking his heart. I deserve every cut, every bite, every whip, deserve to be tormented until I’m dizzy with pleasure, just because it is the only way I can overcome my pride and ego and be with Oswald. But there are rules, safe words, agreements coupled with mind blowing pleasure, but only with Oswald, never with anyone else. It is because I crave his touch. Crave his dominance, his power, his control, crave my Daddy. 

I am jerked ruthlessly from my thoughts by a mouthful of Oswald’s hard sloppy cock being fed down my throat, choking me into action. I quickly devour my reward, tasting the sheer musky taste that is Oswald, salt, musk and something primal that causes me to groan against him, igniting shivers of pleasure from the man. I lick up the thick vein, slathering my tongue over the head and forcing it slightly into the slit, causing Oswald to yank my hair harshly, complaints quickly dying on his lips when I snake my tongue under his foreskin, effectively making him almost come undone. 

‘Be my good boy Ed. Otherwise Daddy might have to punish you and you won’t get to finish.’ The words both make me ache and redouble my efforts to push Oswald over the edge, the thought of not being allowed to finish tormenting me. I relax my throat muscles and sink deeper down Oswald’s shaft, pushing my nose against the base of his groin, sighing happily as Oswald jerks and shouts, forcing my head back so I have to swallow every precious drop of Daddy’s release. His words have pushed my libido higher, this fucked up roleplay is what gets me off, my wires crossed pleasure and pain so much I cannot separate the two. 

Oswald is demanding when we are like this, when we try to forget the Penguin and the Riddler, temporarily ignore that he killed Isabella, pretend I never shot him, never wished him harm. In these moments I submit, relinquish the urge to beat him black and blue and admit I love him in a twisted way of dependence on someone you know you shouldn’t. So instead I pretend that I only want him physically, that our animalistic fucking is the farthest I want it to go, that I can’t and won’t love him, even though I know he still loves me. I catch it in undue tenderness, kisses tinged with a gentle edge, touches that seem to pay homage to my body and me as if I am a deity, a god to be worshipped and prayed to in return for forgiveness. However my heart struggles, my superior intellect cannot ignore the euphoria Oswald grants me, the escapism this bestial thing provides, even if it is no longer what I want from the shorter man. 

So here I am, the great Edward Nygma, the man who is nothing without the Penguin, on my knees, gazing up with reverence as I coax Oswald of all he possesses, mindless of the little spasms and choked gasps the smaller man emits. 

‘Ugh… fuck… so hot, my little enigma, my little Ed.’ His dirty talk is erotic and my still erect cock bobs in agreement to his words, causing Oswald’s catlike smile to only widen as he removes himself from my mouth, making me groan in pain and discomfort. He trails a hand down my back, gentle motions making a cruel mockery of gestures a parent might bestow to calm a child, but instead string me up higher. His other hand dips lower, fingers parting the cleft of my ass, gazing in veneration at my small, quivering hole as he manueveurs me into position. He kisses me then, his tongue working its way past the first ring of muscle, the hot wet heat of his mouth, forcing me forward in a vain attempt to gain more friction. He draws back and holds me open completely before diving back into eating me out, my body protesting the intrusion as he dives ever deeper into me. He licks and bites with reckless abandon, throwing caution to the wind as his stamina dwindles. He withdraws, fingers instead tracing rogue circles where his tongue has just been.

‘If I could I would eat you out forever, just to have the taste of you on my tongue. Kiss me Ed and see what you taste like.’ 

‘But Daddy,’ I whine, ‘that’s dirty.’ Oswald’s slap sends me forward and the sensation catapults me into an orgasm, long white sticky reams shooting into both my stomach and the stones below. Through my haze I hear Oswald’s voice, taunting me at my lack of control and reminding me that his kiss was not a request.  
I kiss him, grabbing fiercely at his grey jumpsuit, gasping as Oswald’s tongue wrestles its way into my mouth, allowing me to sample my taste off his tongue. The odd flavour stems another bud of arousal in me heightened by Oswald’s fingers return to my hole, feeling as he dips a finger past my sphincter testing me, teasing me, taunting me. 

‘Relax baby, Daddy’s got you. Don’t you want Daddy’s cock?’ his words streak straight into my submissive side. I arch into the ground my stomach pressing into the stones as I cant my ass towards Oswald. 

‘Daddy, please I’ve been good. Let me have you Daddy, please! Oh god! Mmm… please. I want your cock inside me!!!’ I’m begging and it is debasement and carnality at its finest. Oswald leans forward, blanketing my heated flesh with his own, letting his cock brush between my cheeks. The sensation is too much and I almost lose it, fighting against the urge to violently rut against Oswald. He holds a slender finger up before my mouth, tugging my head to make me whimper so he can trace the curvature of my lips, rendering each bump to memory. 

‘Sacrifice your integrity for me Ed. Suck my finger, do it for Daddy and I’ll reward you.’ I freeze, the thought degrading and filthy, the Riddler clawing inside me at my hesitation. 

It will make you weak,’ He hisses, ‘Trusting him, loving him will make you weak!!’ 

Oswald senses my hesitation and says what he knows will lose me.

‘Or does my whore prefer something else?’ The words claw and wreck undue havoc on my psyche, the thought both appealing and revolting to me. A whore. Oswald’s whore. It is what I am, is it not? Why else am I desperate for him, what else do I possibly have to lose? The Riddler, the flashy, flamboyant, reckless Riddler is no match for the Penguin and never has been. He is protesting, rattling his mental cage and screaming at me not to do it, to protect our sanity and the empire we have built without him, but I am desperate. 

However when I gaze back at the small man and see the tenderness in his eyes, his respectful distance as I ponder my choice. Looking at him, his myriad of forest green eyes, glinting softly in the light, echoing the Penguin underneath, I know that my previous statement is still true. 

‘I would do anything for you.’ 

‘I know.’ Those two words shock me and slowly, cautious of the trust I am placing in the hands of the man I tried to kill, I open my mouth. I am receptive to him, the Riddler and Kristen mercifully silent, as I trust him. 

‘What’s the safeword?’ Oswald probes and it makes my respect for him inflate. Throughout all of our turbulent agreement he has respected my boundaries, respected Ed Nygma and never pushed when I said no, even though he could of. 

‘Riddle.’ I breathlessly reply, softly smiling when Oswald giggles, clapping his hands together, his own private joke amusing him to no end. It’s adorable, how childlike the fearsome Penguin is when amused, eyes alight with mirth and glee. It makes this moment more intimate and tender, just Oswald and Ed, two men who love and trust one another, not their terrifyingly insane alter egos. 

A warm digit invades my mouth, my lips instantly closing and creating suction, pulling the finger as far in as it can go. Oswald shifts and whimpers at the erotic display and my silent victory makes me suck the finger, treating it as a miniature marvel, mimicking the actions I would perform upon other parts of his anatomy. Oswald is getting impatient and begins to remove his finger, but in my desperation, I sink my teeth into the soft pad, playfully, shivering at the growl Oswald emits at the action. I feel a petty victory for making him irate like he has made me, but the accompanying slap to my tender ass cheeks, means the victory is quickly snatched away. I cry out in ecstasy at the sting that follows, embarrassingly climaxing, watching as I drip into the stones. Oswald drags his fingers through my mess and lifts his fingers to inspect them, watching every move I make as he cleans them, his long, thick, pink tongue darting out, teasing me at the simulating display. 

‘Naughty Ed, very naughty. Daddy didn’t give you permission to do that did he? Tut tut, Daddy will have to spank you as punishment.’ The thought roars through my body, fire leaving a blackened path in its wake, my nerve endings alight at the mere image of Oswald dominating me, punishing me. I want it. My inner Riddler growls in agreement, finally as impatient as I. 

I angle my ass towards Oswald wiggling softly, drawing his attention to my ass, subtly hinting what I want, wanting the Penguin more than Oswald in that moment. Realisation dawns upon Oswald like lightening, causing him to place his hands on my hips to still my gyrations, the distraction evidently too much as he regains his composure. This is new ground for us, one that requires tentative steps. He has never slapped me with pleasurable intent, never when I asked for it, only ever in punishment which ends in tears. Oswald shakily exhales but I trust him, trust him to know my limits more than I do. 

The first hit is electric, pain sizzling up my nerves, the stimulant causing me to gasp, arousal beading up as my cock is called to attention once more. The next one is tenderer, more of a caress, lulling me gently before another slap breaks me of my reverie, Oswald hitting the same spot, before which he just lavished gentle touches. Oswald alternates between slaps and caresses, each one more forceful than the last till my backside is alive with angry, red handprints. He stops suddenly, panting heavily as he kisses my spine, his slender fingers massaging me, soft erotic touches that make me keen, the masochist in me crying for his sadist, crying for Daddy to just take me. 

My mind barely registers that Oswald is erect again, his cock brushing against my inflamed skin, the contact too much against the roaring inferno of pain that has erupted on my backside. Oswald tenderly reclines back from me and moves a piece of hair away from my eyes, absentmindedly stroking my cheek as I attempt to sit and immediately wince, breaking him out of his trance. 

‘Don’t. Please Ed. Please.’ He looks at me caringly and gently helps me recline, easing the pressure off me until I am lying down once more, obliging his every whim, feeling instant gratification as the pain subsides.

Oswald’s eyes are burning, bright and hot, but not with lust, not this time. This time they inoxercably burn with love, Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot is in love with me, Edward Nygma. The thought makes me glow, radiant in my pure ecstatic joy, joy only ever admitted to myself and my hallucinations who are unfortunately privy to all my thoughts.

You may love him, Mr. Nygma, but he will never love you back.’ Kristen’s voice echoes, her voice disappearing entirely when a spit slickened digit slips into my entrance, my muscles clenching tight. 

‘Relax baby. Daddy’s got you.’ 

I sigh and breathe deeply, trying to unclench my muscles to accommodate the finger as it penetrates deeper accompanied by a soft, slow burn of arousal. I moan as the finger bottoms out, sheathed to the hilt in warm, slick flesh as Oswald retreats. He stops only briefly, quickly lunging back in with two fingers, filling me deliciously full, scissoring within my body till I am an incoherent, shuddery mess. I am whining, whimpering at the exertion of staying still, overcome with the sheer volume of my pleasure. 

Oswald deftly strokes my prostrate, the sensation tearing a pleasured scream from my throat so that it takes all of my remaining strength not to buckle under the weight of my pleasure induced haze. 

‘Please.. Oswald… enough.’ I’m being impatient, so drunk on ecstasy that I’m demanding Oswald, demanding him in every way I can. 

He relents and slowly eases in, gently nudging his thick head into me until I gasp at the fullness, the sensation so vicious it causes tears to prick in my eyes. He stops, unable to penetrate any deeper into me, my muscles gently pulsing around him, imploring him to move, to fuck me senseless. Oswald moans and pulls out, leaving just the tip in, denying me the friction I need to come undone in his arms. 

‘Harder Oswald…ugh..please.’ 

‘What did you just call me?’ He asks, his voice pitched dangerously low. 

‘Daddy!!!’ I practically shout the words, unheeding of the guards stationed just outside the door. Oswald submits and like a greyhound racing after the first shot of a pistol, he slams back in, hitting my prostrate, dragging moan after moan from my lips. The pleasure is so intense it is electric my back arches as the smack of skin against skin fills the room, coupled with lewd moans and pleas, building to a salacious cacophony of pleasure.

He is hard, rough, callous in his assault, taking and demanding with fervour. It’s erotic, sensual and forbidden. We shouldn’t do this, not considering the warped history we have behind us. Yet we do, we sin in the dark like the little sinners we are, him above me, pushing   
and pulling whilst I writhe beneath him, my ecstasy tinged bitter with shame and cowardice. I shouldn’t want the man I tried to kill, I shouldn’t want the man who killed Isabella, killed my second chance with Kristen, but I do, inexplicably so. 

It is self-destructive, a dependency on him that I crave. I crave the release, crave the intellect stimulant Oswald provides, crave his hands who have memorized my skin to such an extent he can make me explode without touching me. But most of all I crave Oswald, Oswald and his unadulterated and unaltered love for me.   
I’ve known for a while that Oswald loves me. It was evident ever since that night he leaned in a little too close, held me a little too tightly, was a little too stressed when I was out for too long. It just took me long to admit that I loved him back, needed and wanted him just as much if not more than he did for me. The truth terrified me. I was just Edward Nygma when we first met, the man who worked at the GCPD, the man with an inane fondness of riddles. Then Oswald walked in, tailored suit, haughty air of arrogance, limping gait and refusal to answer my riddles, so self-assured he blatantly removed me from his personal space. He drew me to him as quickly and as painfully as a moth to a flame. 

I watched, almost obsessively, as the Penguin emerged, the fearsome undisputed King of Gotham, running rings around the inept GCPD, eluding even the self-righteous Jim Gordon. The Penguin was heartless, ruthless when it came to those who betrayed him, gutting them like a fish without a second thought. As the Penguin, he oddly aroused me with his depraved behaviour and the way he exuded dominance, yet as Oswald he exuded trust, naivety tipped with razor sharp wit and a tailored appearance. 

I was attracted to both, I wanted every personality Oswald could possibly ever have, but it took till Oswald appeared alive and well, the promise of gore and my demise in his eyes, for me to submit, to admit I wanted him, I needed him, I loved him.

Oswald senses my thoughts are wandering and grinds to a halt, immediately dragging my attention to the shorter man. I whine at the loss of contact, going pale as he withdraws from my heat, thinking I have displeased him in some way for him to forsake me. My eyes are dragged to his leaking cock bobbing against his leg and I reach for it desperately my hands forming ravenous little claws, ready to devour Oswald. But Oswald refuses, stopping and in my bestial heat I sneer at him, quickly met with a reproachful glance to silence my insistence.

‘What are you thinking about Edward?’ I bristle at the name, his inquisitive nature angering the Riddler who has been left denied. 

‘You.’ I breathe, a small blush forming on my cheeks, my eyes downcast as I refuses to look up, afraid to gauge the other man’s inevitable rejection. Oswald doesn’t let me, using slender fingers tipped in black to force my chin up until I have no choice other than to meet his gaze. 

‘What about me?’ I cringe at the thought. ‘Something pleasant I hope.’ 

I look at him, so trusting even though he knows he is vulnerable, that I could choke the life out of him at any time. 

‘Like you did to me, you choked the life out of me. What is it that you say?’ Kristen places a hand to her lips in an exaggeration of thinking ‘Oh I remember!!’ She claps her hands in glee, her face split in a canary like grin. 

I would never hurt you. Lies, Mr Nygma, all lies. Face it, you’re a killer and it’s only a matter of time before you kill your precious Penguin too.’ 

I shake off her comments, trying to ignore the cold feeling of dread and guilt creeping up my spine. I am hesitating, unsure of whether to tell Oswald where my thoughts had really strayed whether this new-found admission of love might alienate him further. I inhale deeply, drawing oxygen in my lungs as Oswald looks on concerned at my lengthy silence.   
‘I was thinking about when you first arrived here, so vibrant, so alive even though I was certain I had shot you, certain you were dead. I felt relief, even when you tried to violently grab me, I deserved all your contempt I was just so glad you were alive. I regretted killing you the moment that bullet left the chamber but then there was nothing I could do. You never fascinated me more in that moment, even with your refusal to answer my riddle when we initially met, your boyish smile, the endearment in your eyes when I told you I believed in you. When I realised my unsolved riddle was not the Court of Owls, but the enigma that is Oswald Cobblepot.’ 

I stop, the confession rushed and hasty, admitted in a freezing cellar in absurd bird cages in-between bouts of frantic fucking. I look up and Oswald has tears in his eyes, a small quivering smile gracing his face as he grabs my hand and pulls me into his lap. He shushes me softly, stroking my hair as he rocks me back and forth, soothing me like a child. The actions make me dulcet and I sleepily mumble what has been on my mind.

‘I love you Oswald.’ 

‘I know.’ He shakily exhales at my confused expression, tears falling and escaping his thin leash of constraint. He holds me closer and tilts my face towards his, leaning in to kiss me. His lips are familiarly soft, warm and opening even though the gesture is foreign to us both. Before it was too personal, too intimate to what we were. But now with soft tender lips mingling with my own, only the desperate desire for oxygen compels us to break apart. The action reignites my arousal and I kiss Oswald again hungrily, eagerly opening my mouth to let Oswald’s tongue massage my own.  
I lean and wiggle my ass towards Oswald who only laughs affectionately at the display. He lines his cock up to my star shaped hole and pushes in, as gentle as he was the first time I surrendered. But this time I have not surrendered, I have given Oswald everything I am and received acceptance in return. There is a new tenderness in this act, an intimacy our previous couplings lacked. This is not fucking, rutting like animals no more, this is two men, broken, bloody and bruised, opening themselves up, making love instead of war. 

There is an odd sense of belonging, with me on my knees, Oswald’s cock thrusting in and out, yet still at the same time the Riddler rattles his cage, demanding it harder, faster, demanding Daddy’s return, our tender lovemaking not fulfilling his depraved desires. I struggle against him but it is futile and what he wants he will get. 

‘Fuck Daddy! Oswald please… ugh… I’m so sorry but please just… ughh!’ My body spasms and jerks as Oswald complies, rutting against me forcefully whilst the Riddler crows about his success. 

This is what you want Ed. Hard, rough, callous, emotionless fucking. Not the doe-eyed lovemaking Oswald is giving. You don’t want Cobblepot, Ed. You want the Penguin. 

I shiver at the erotic thoughts of my subconscious, the salacious images sensitising me and leaving me susceptible to arousal. But I admit, albeit silently, that although I love Oswald, the Penguin renders me speechless, fascinated as I am by his depravity.

My thoughts are reeled back in by a burning spark that flitters around my eyes before imploding, fragments that still and burn as I gasp, Oswald’s hand around my throat. 

Ohhh Ed. You deserve this.’ Kristen is moaning, eyes closed at the sensation of me being choked. ‘Do you feel the man you love crushing your windpipe, easily crushing the muscle and sinew until you will fall limp against him. I speak from experience you know.’ 

Oswald has dropped me, leaving my cock to leak ejaculate onto the floor as he thrusts harder, uneven and spasmic jerks that tell me he is close. He all but screeches in pleasure as he cums, emptying himself inside me, making me feel that viciously pleasurable fullness again. He withdraws, leaking a few stray drops from my orifice as he does so. 

I shudder in the afterglow, shudder as I descend from the headiness of post coital bliss, barely noticing when Oswald wraps me back into his lap and I nuzzle gently into his neck as we sway. 

‘God.. Ed, that was… something else.’ He looks at me, nervous suddenly and fear grips me, vicelike as I wonder at the cause of his sudden fear. 

‘Maybe,’ My reflection drawls ‘He’s just realised he doesn’t love you. What a shame that would be eh, Ed? Would you shoot him again for betraying you, or would you do what he did and keep him close, refusing to share your little caged Penguin?’

‘What? What’s wrong?’ I clear my throat, my voice hoarse with nerves.

‘You love me Ed, for which I am grateful, but I am not just one man. What I am asking is, well, do you love the Penguin as well?’ he blurts out the last part, ashamed and crimson red. I tilt his face down and kiss his forehead, replying with a similiar question of my own. 

‘Do you love both Ed Nygma and the Riddler?’ Oswald smiles, nodding gently, his only response as he gazes upon me in veneration. I gaze back, just as adoring until a wicked thought crosses my mind and a mischievous grin claims my face.

‘I can start a war or end one. I can give you the strength of heroes, or make you powerless. I might be snared with a glance but no force can compel me to stay. What am I?’

‘Are you asking me a riddle, Edward?’ He asks coquettishly as I playful bat his arm.

‘Just answer the question.’ Oswald shrugs, both bemused and incredulous with my strange response as I giggle, satisfied he will be able to guess the answer. 

‘Love, Ed. The answer is love.’ 

‘And I love you.’ I say, bringing him close and kissing him deep.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a two shot which will be followed by Needing the Riddler (Now Give Me Everything I Need) which will be from Oswald's POV cause my baby needs some love. Please kudos and leave comments if you enjoyed!
> 
> GothamNights xx


End file.
